The Pokemon Manifesto
by Micah Debrink
Summary: In an Unova region, now overtaken by the militant Pokemon force, what has changed? How have humans adapted? What terrible liberties have the insurgent Pokemon taken against their human subjects? Hear about it from a Pokemon's point of view. (An AU fic.)
1. Introduction

(It's been a while! This a spontaneous idea I had in my head for a relatively long story to be posted in multiple installments. Please tell me what you think of the idea, and whether I should devote some time to this.)

(Disclaimer: Pokemon and its trademarked names/elements do not belong to me.)

The Pokemon Manifesto

Eons ago, Arceus beared onto this Earth, three children: the former the Father of Creation, the latter three the Creators. One created Time, One created Space, and One created Antimatter. Together the three children formed the World, where the infinitesimal being of Mew finally had the space to gain Form. And so then from the Form of Mew descended all the Pokémon: the purest descendants of the Creation rooted in the core of Arceus' dominant figure.

This is how I understand it. Our Leader is, of course, by the Divine Order of the almighty Arceus, the only infallible resources on all matters pertaining to the subject of our history. I actively serve in the position of Second-in-Command, advising in the strictest confidence regarding the Leader's policies, and in addition having control of many public works systems that our Leader is unable to attend to during his occupied day.

I was still a Snivy when the Pokémon came to save me. Living in a small seaside town of Unova, I was under the confines of a Trainer—I spit at that term now—when the local Pokémon militia liberated me, breaking open the locked doors of his home, armed with machine guns, machetes, and hand grenades. The only thing that impressed me more than their power was the powerlessness of the human Trainer under the weapons. He buckled at the joints, collapsing to the floor in one fell swoop. That is how I became part of Pokémon.

Thanks to Pokémon, I have gained an education in the English language, and served as the editor of the Pokémon newspaper _Revolution Now_ for ten years. My publications received the attention and approbations of the Leader and his Secretariat, and with this opportunity I entered into the intricate workings of the government.

It is pitiful that the Commoners of human and Pokémon fail to grasp the workings of the society we have created, to see from my 23rd floor office as tiny little specks, taking their merry trips about the street in cheerful compliance. But I smile at this; for it is the understanding that leads to the revolt. The understanding among Pokémon of their place in society that led the insurrection against the Unova government, and the eventual liberation of the thousands of imprisoned Pokémon by our group. I smile at the ignorance of the Commoners: for their understanding, or lack thereof, shall ultimately lead to stability, placidity. The blood spatter on the tired gray pavement shall dry in the sun, crust up, and erode away with the cleansing rain and whipping wind.

With this document, I hope to expound to you humans the workings of Pokémon, and the insurrection against the state which contains the various regions where humans reside and rule over the quantitatively dominant force of Pokémon.

(To be continued. Please give your thoughts on whether I should continue this!)


	2. Regarding the Name

(So far, this is the idea I'm looking at. **If they wish, readers may post questions** about this alternate universe: for example, What is a day in life like? or What is the history behind it? and **I will post an answer, in the character of the story, using the format "Regarding_".** This chapter I created on my own, but I will gladly accept any questions you have about this alternate universe!)

Regarding the Name

First, it shall be noted the true origins of the name "Pokémon", for most humans misinterpret the meaning, according to our great Leader. For the term does not refer to "pocket monsters": this is merely a false interpretation set by humans in an attempt to justify divine-right dominance over us.

The term "pocket" implies the placement of the object in a human-invented device, the shirt "pocket" or pants "pocket", and the term "monster" implies an otherworldly creature, that they do not deserve conversation and interaction at a sophisticated level, and that they are wild and savage by nature. But of course, the humans themselves are wild and savage by nature—no more than we Pokémon are.

* * *

To prove this point, perhaps I should draw attention to one incident that occurred at Nuvema Town. The Pokémon in Professor Juniper's—I spit at that name—laboratory have been successfully liberated. The Professor herself and her family's whereabouts are unknown: it is believed they have taken to the seas and fled to another region, absconding with the remnants of their so-called Pokémon "collection". As of current, the humans residing are under our subjugation, serving in the rice paddies to provide food for the new State. This serves only as a temporary measure, as I have confirmed with the Leader—it is merely part of the humans' assimilation into the new society.

Only about three of four days into my term in the Government, I was sent by the Leader to inspect the crop yields firsthand. I arrived by car—which was not a comfortable journey owing to the dirt roads—and was immediately greeted by the Pokémon of the town, exclusively residing as free citizens of our society.

"Oh my Arceus!"

"He's here!"

"A member of the Central Government is here! Serperior Philip! Welcome!"

I was immediately escorted past the houses where the citizens stayed, and sent to view the tent camps occupied by the human workers. "A fine work ethic, they have," one of the Pokémon citizens assured me.

I stayed unmoving for a while, silently inspecting the rice fields the camp overlooked, under the close, proactive watch of the local citizens. They gazed intently at me as I stared outward, studying my expression, studying my posture…what was I going to say?

"What about…that human over there?" I pointed with my vine, as disinterested as possible.

The citizens hastily guided me away from the sight. "Oh please do not worry your Honorable Self over such a matter the human is only recovering from a little wound that was entirely ENTIRELY its fault well yes yes why don't you follow me here that's right."

The human was bleeding into the murky rice paddy water. And as the privilege of human-made clothing had been taken away from the laborers…I could see exactly why.

"The human is savage by nature," one of the citizens spoke softly in my ear. "It has only itself to blame for committing such a sinful crime as desecrating the bountiful rice fields."

Later that night, I was greeted merrily with a large feast…the manifestations of all the human labor. With the capital on Castelia City, I had never feasted my eyes on such fresh, exotic seafood and crisp, green vegetables that almost resembled plastic, being of such perfect shape, color and texture. Now drawing attention to rice wine, I reminded myself of the human and its blood trickling into the paddies, into the grains; though the thought was fleeting as we seated ourselves, and the festivities ensued.

One of the citizens, a Braviary, began to propose a toast. "My fellow Pokémon, to—oh wait!"

"What is it?" I asked.

"Shit," the Braviary mumbled. "I need to feed the fucking humans their meal. Oh please, do not get up!"

"I insist," I replied, rising from the table. "As a member of the Central Government, it is my obligation to examine every aspect of the village's workings."

"Oh…" the Braviary chuckled in humiliation, staring at my assertive, glowing red eyes. "…of course, of course! Do follow me! This way!"

* * *

The humans had already gathered at the designated feeding area: a large plaza specifically designed for the purpose. As per instruction, they had filed themselves in the plaza such that a large circular void remained in the center. Following the Braviary, he and I arrived at a purpose built balcony, overlooking the laborers. Their faces glowed bright orange under the weak light of a torch flame that night.

Without word or expression, the Braviary tossed a bucket of the dilute rice porridge into the central void. A cacophony of harsh grunts and aggressive cries ensued among the humans as they shoved and jostled each other about, grappling for a piece of the insipid porridge: energy from the Ones Above. With every successive struggle, fist-fight, and wrestle, the porridge gradually turned into but a sticky mush that coated their skin, uplifting nourishment turned into weight: an encumbrance. Their plaintive cries for the food to fall into their yearning stomachs rang through my ears the whole of the night. The musty smells of the struggling bodies evoked visions of a mire. The mire of flooded, water-saturated rice paddies. The dim, orange glow of the flame proved to be the only distortion from the glaring reality.

The bird Pokémon did not bat an eye during the ordeal: his eyes danced about, his mind clearly invested in other situations. He only stayed for it was incumbent upon him to watch over the humans, as their Chief Supervisor. It took fifteen minutes of glazed, extraneous thoughts before he finally turned his attention to my pallid, fixed expression.

Whilst the jumble of humans fought for the last drop of porridge, the Braviary quietly approached me. "Do not feel low. These humans are savage creatures…accept that. Oh, they have tried to hide it in the Past. They tried to prove their supremacy over Us, disguising their nature with etiquette and morals. But, let us face it: as much as you hide it, you can't deny Nature. You can't deny that Arceus, a Pokémon, was the Father of Creation, not a human. Nature made us the alpha creatures. Humans are the wild, unorganized beta creatures. That is how it should be."

My eyes stayed fixated on the wrestling humans, still fighting even after the last mushy grain of porridge had been downed. "I respect and agree with your opinion," I replied to the Braviary, straightening my body. "However, you should note in future that it is improper to speak in such a manner to senior government officials, let alone one who is directly affiliated with the Secretariat of the Leader Himself." The bird Pokémon's face tensed up, and began trembling.

"But I will forgive you this time," I quickly added, "for the opinions you have provided me I consider to be of value."

"Oh thank you thank you!" The Braviary immediately replied. "Your…your mercy is greatly appreciated! May Arceus bless you for the suffering you have endured…and…may He punish me for the sin I have committed! I deeply apologize, Serperior Philip." I continued my lack of eye contact, despite his heartfelt apology.

"Shall I…shall I carry you by air back to our…our humble abode?" the bird Pokémon proposed.

"…If you insist." I simply said.

* * *

It was after the feast, where I had agreed to a late night walk through the village, the whole group of us citizens under the considerable influence of the rice wine.

"And…and I told her…she better give me fucking good time or I'd slap her silly! Haha!" The Braviary had turned from solemn and formal to raunchy and outspoken.

"Do not worry about him, Serperior Philip," said another citizen regarding the Braviary. "He always gets like this after several glasses."

The night was silent and pitch-dark under the dense clouds. Pokémon with night vision capabilities guiding us eliminated the need for street lights. The electric manifestations of man-made creation had been removed from most cities, cited as an unnecessary vestige of past human domination in Unova. The darkness proved to be serene, with the cleansing sound of ocean waves and the muted moonlight being the only things that filled the senses. But the light, of lack thereof, proved to be absolutely terrifying as well.

"AAAAH!" A shrill scream, without advance warning, approached from behind me. Before I could blink or turn my head, my serpentine body had fallen powerlessly to the ground. The world had turned pitch-dark, but not only in the sense of vision. All senses switched off, abandoning the weak body in darkness. Nothing. No thought. No comforting oceans and moonlight. I failed to move with the commands my brain issued. It was only when I woke under the dim candlelight of a room that I knew I had lost consciousness.

"What…happened?" In the immediate sensory shock of my environment, it was a struggle to speak.

One of the citizens of Nuvema whispered quietly into my ear. "You were knocked unconscious by a rogue human. Somehow, it managed to escape the camp. Unpredictable creatures, humans are—they've no sense of place or self-confinement. We're so sorry for the distress we've caused you, Serperior Philip. We…hope you will forgive us."

"No…that's quite all right." I experimented with motion, attempting to regain control of my body. "What did you do with the human?"

"If…you wish, you can see for yourself." I was directed to a window.

The mauled body of the human lay on the street, the blood glistening in the moonlight.

* * *

Humans are wild, unpredictable, savage; it is contemptible of them to have placed such a term as "pocket monsters" on us. In fact, the term "Pokémon" refers to the phrase "submission to Arceus", one of the earliest words in our natural language. Those who believe in "submission to Arceus" are followers of "Pokémon". The collective group of beings that believe in "submission to Arceus" is called "Pokémon", hence our name. With this definition, it implies that Arceus, the rightful Father of Creation, is a supreme being to us Pokémon, and that ultimately it is only He who has dominance over us; our identifying term is dependent on the concept of Arceus' divine power, not on the man-made "pocket" and the demeaning term "monster".

Individual Pokémon are named by their species, for example "Oshawott, Bulbasaur, Munna" and a given name. Therefore, as had been inadvertently mentioned in the previous story, my full name is: my species, a Serperior, and my given name, Philip. I am Serperior Philip, second-in-command to the Supreme Leader, incumbent by the Divine Order of Arceus Himself, in the Central Government of the Unova Pokémon Liberation Order.

* * *

(I hope you enjoyed this installment! Comment on your thoughts, and be sure to ask me any questions you have about the character's world; it may be answered in a future chapter!)


	3. Regarding the Beginning

(Hey everyone! Here's the next installment; be sure to send me your questions about the alternate universe. I will do my best to address them in a future chapter.)

* * *

Regarding the Beginning

Perhaps it would an opportune time to address the exact circumstances as to how the Unova Pokémon Liberation Order came into being. For this part of Our Story, I cannot be self-reliant in recollection due to the time of our inception—many years ago—as the young, juvenile mind is not a veritable source.

To seek the answer, I draw your attention to the work of a senior contributor to _Revolution Now_ : the publication I was editor to before assuming a position in the Central Government. Her name is Luxray Tanya, a long-time writer to the magazine even before I was editor. At one time, she was rumored to have had clandestine relations with an influential Pokémon warlord, in the form of an extramarital affair. She had already beared children with a loving mate, but nonetheless took the risk of being infatuated with such an unstable, militant figure of the fledgling Pokémon insurrection. Time and time again, I had invited her to my editor's office in a free time to ask her: _why?_ She never made an effort to hide her infidelity—not even to her mate, she boasted. (It made me question of the loyalty of Tanya's child-sharing male companion.) At first, she had refused to respond to my questions regarding the matter. But finally one meeting, she said, with a lustful look in her imagining eyes: "When I am with him, I am _something_."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She smiled. "Oh, Philip—"

" _Serperior_ Philip." I corrected her.

Tanya scoffed weakly, her tiredness noticeable. "Oh, who gives a fuck. Anyway…look at us. What can we do with our 'power'? We don't have shit, d'you realize? So what if we write a piece criticizing the warlord's powers? Like what? They have absolute control over the cities they invaded? They severely oppress the conquered humans? Sure, some Pokémon will listen! But do they have the power to change...?" She paused for an answer, but received none.

"The ones who'll listen don't have the damn power to change anything," she continued. "D'you think the warlords listen to articles criticizing their leadership? They don't even…arrest us or anything! They couldn't give a shit about what the papers say. That's why I'm with him. Not so that I have power, or courage. So I will be listened. Are _you_ listening to me?"

"I am, Tanya. Loud and clear."

" _Luxray_ Tanya."

" _Luxray_ Tanya. If what you say is true…what makes you think your new partner will listen to _you_?" I finally say, ending the conversation.

* * *

Yes, for at that time—and still today, albeit much less—warlords, or strong Pokémon military generals, held all the "practical" power. They held the tools. They held the Pokémon troops. And in the nascent stages of the Order, it was enough to be given carte blanche over their territories: the Central Government wasn't much more than a puppet back then.

But I beg leave to rest, for it would of greater benefit to the reader to hear a firsthand account from Tanya herself, published in _Revolution Now_ (called _Pokémon Freedom Daily_ at the time):

"'Stand at attention!' The commander barks from his podium. The army of Pokémon freeze to attention. The commander presides over the spectacle: his peons arrayed into a perfect square shape. And yet amidst the supposed uniformity there lays a forest of variety: Pokémon of varying species, colors, and genders. The sweltering heat and animal musk festers deep in the orderly forest of troops. An uneasy silence of obedience prevails.

"And somewhere in the middle, stands Dewott Marcel. His head tries so hard to peek up and catch a glimpse of their general, boldly calling them to The Fight for The Cause. Marcel had left his dear mate the day before to join the Pokémon militia. He knew of the feelings of withdrawal that would ensue. She knew the joy would cease; and the loneliness, the painfully languid summer afternoons, and the frigid winter nights would rise. But Marcel was certain it was his calling. 'Be the strong, independent Pokémon that you can be!', the recruiters would chant, parading through cities populated with wild Pokémon and trained Pokémon willing to defect. She knew how much the duty meant to him. 'You are young now. You have the strength. You have the will. I understand if you leave…I may lose you, but never, _never_ my love for you,' she would say to him as the day he was to be sent off neared. They would cry for a while, mourn the bygone days, dread the numbered days, and then forget their sorrows in a lustful frenzy, lying close together.

"'The humans require our help,' the commander boasts. 'With Team Plasma closing in…and the population of human Trainers dwindling…the human government of Unova has tasked us Pokémon with the noble mission…the noble mission, my friends, of _defeating_ Team Plasma!

"'They have designated me, Gallade Nathan, as your Commander and leader. They have given us the tools: guns, grenades, machetes. They have given us the training. What they haven't given us, my friends, is the willpower, the courage! And that is where you come in. _You_ , up there in the front, so fearlessly bearing the brunt of the oncoming enemies. _You_ , in the middle, courageously attacking the enemy with full force. _You_ , in the very back, surveying the damage and moving casualties away from the front lines and to safety. _You_ are all important, but most importantly, _you all_ have the will. The unique will of a Pokémon, blessed upon you by Arceus Himself, you have! The humans are weak in the mind and spirit: they slack off on their sofas, gouge themselves with unwholesome food. We Pokémon, are _strong_. We are _courageous_. We _never_ stop until our goal is achieved! And now with the powerful tools of humans, we shall be troops of valor! Do you hear me, my friends!?'

"The army roars with cheering and cries of support. With every clarion call to battle, Marcel is nearly driven to tears.

"But he never let them bud from the corners of his eyes: emotions should never cloud the senses.

"And with that I follow the army as they march on in their daring campaign against Team Plasma, under the auspices of the human-led Unova Government. The following week that very battalion of Pokémon, armed with automatic rifles and full combat wear, heroically defeated Team Plasma at one of the latter's largest strongholds.

"I searched the building, only to find, to my dismay, Marcel had departed—just like Team Plasma did—laying supine on the concrete ground: cold, yet eerily peaceful."

* * *

It began the 3000th year of the Father of Creation Arceus. The highest human representatives of the Unova Government took their seats at the convention center in Castelia City. A delegation of Pokémon found in the wild to possess superior talent or intelligence was assembled as well, in a confidential gathering. The human delegation was to establish an alternative force to curtail Team Plasma in lieu of human Trainers; for a dearth of new Trainers had resulted after Team Plasma's audacious and terror-inducing infiltration of the past Pokémon league.

As a result, they turned to Pokémon for leadership; the Pokémon intelligentsia would become the generals of the regiments, and some the warlords when anarchy later ensued. But I shall not trouble the reader with the latter, for this happens in later times. The Pokémon would be provided with military gear such as automatic rifles and explosive devices—for the human delegation held the naïve assumption that no Pokémon attack could ever surmount the masterfulness of manmade weaponry—and little more than basic training by qualified humans. After which they were given autonomy in their quest to fulfill the mission. The ulterior motives of the Unova Government? Perhaps a short-lived social experiment, or to prove the supposed inferiority of a Pokémon army to the world. They erred in all counts: the experiment was not short-lived, the Pokémon regiments were not merely subordinates…and with time, it turned from an already shaky experiment to an unstable social dilemma.

Tanya had published the above article when she was merely a Luxio; I was only a few days out of my Egg. It is obvious that at the time of the article's publication that Pokémon held no dominion over the humans—in fact quite the opposite. The humans of Unova had formed a group of Pokémon with military status, and human-like privileges and technology. But in an unfortunate chain of events that began after the time of the article's publication, the otherwise commendable collaboration between humans and Pokémon soon fizzled into a tangled disorder, like the jungle of the wild.

The old adage goes: when there's a will, there's a way. The Pokémon generals, presiding over their troops, had the will: the will for power. And they had the way: human weapons, much more efficient at combat than Pokémon attacks.

I failed to mention they also had greed. This they held the most of: filling the gaps in their conscience, atrophied from villainous intentions.

* * *

(...until next time!)


	4. Regarding My Beginning

(I apologize for being so sporadic with updates. I hope to publish a major project-not this one, in case you were wondering-by spring of next year, and most of my time is currently spent on that. Until then...Merry Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Dia de los Tres Reyes Magos, or whatever holiday you celebrate...and Happy New Year!)

 **Suggestions for the next chapters' topics are welcome!**

* * *

Regarding My Beginning

Or rather, the roots of the plant I call my life as a liberated Pokémon. For these moments are about the earliest to inception that I can recall; any further down, and I reach into the buried roots of life in infancy: inaccessible by my present state of mind. Therefore, in the interest of clarity, I will first furnish the reader with some brief background information from secondary sources. Though I have hinted briefly at the invasion of Nuvema, I shall dare venture into greater detail.

A Pokémon warlord had ordered the invasion of Nuvema, a significant stronghold—both symbolically and literally—of the false humanist ideals they sought to crush. For Nuvema, the otherwise quaint and picturesque seaside village, held Professor Juniper and her bank of Pokémon: slaves to her research, her scientific exploitation, her every whim otherwise. The warlord had decided not to pursue the Professor any further after she absconded with a handful of faithful Pokémon to a distant region. He—being the relatively more merciful of the many warlords slowly eating away at human rule in Unova—did not desire to hurt her, and that the majority of Pokémon be freed was his primary concern. (Such a flattery, however, cannot be given to some of his corrupt subordinates, as the reader shall realize later.)

Understandably, he had received a tirade of criticisms and even outright derision from the more despotic of the Unova warlords for letting such an "enemy of the state" slip away from his grasp relative unscathed. (The Professor had suffered mild bruises from a fall, and was grazed at the shoulder by a bullet; but this was almost amusingly minor compared to what other human prisoners-of-war suffered in the hands of Pokémon troops with more malevolent intentions, as shall be seen later.)

Still young, as a Snivy, they had locked me in the van for a while, the jet black cargo hold illuminated only by scant slivers of daylight peeking through the door seams. I would not have been aware there were others under the darkness' capability of visual deception, had I not heard tiny footsteps approach me. Timorous sparks flashing signaled to me it was an electric Pokémon.

"Hello!" I cried out in the Pokémon tongue, for I was not versed in English at the time.

"Who is it? Oh! You gave me quite surprise there!" The light from the Pokémon turned to face me, revealing her identity as an Emolga: one whom I had been acquainted with, through by my former Trainer's friends.

"How are you!?" I inquired, beaming with a reassured expression. "Boy, am I glad to see you here. I mean, trapped in a dark van, at least I see a…" I trailed off. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, it's nothing."

"What? C'mon. Don't be afraid. Remember, when you have someone by your side...you can never be afraid." I spoke to a blank screen, for the Emolga's electricity had extinguished in her enervate condition. Her sobs rang vividly, painting a picture of her current expression.

"…My trainer used to tell that to me, what you just said," the Emolga said through choking tears. "And now…he's gone…and…I'll never get to be with him again!"

"Don't cry." I made an effort to reach to comfort her in the darkness, but failed…awkwardly. "He'll come and see you. You'll both see each other again. I promise."

"But how!?" Her sorrow turned the simple question into a plaintive cry.

"I don't know how…" I admitted, "…but it'll happen. I guarantee it." I smiled at her, despite being in the invisibility cloak of darkness. "I'm confident: by the end of today, I shall see my trainer again. I won't be alone. You say it now. Go on, believe in your will."

"Such positivity…I wish I had your spirit."

"Don't mention it—oh. The van has stopped moving." I noted. With that, the doors opened, summer sun pouring into the cargo hold. A burly Machamp briefly acknowledged us, then escorted us to a bustling tent camp we had been shuttled to; presumably one established by the warlord and his military force.

The noxious soot-ridden vapors wafted from crude campfires as dusk neared, the sun a trembling orange orb boiling the land as it touched Horizon. I suddenly spit on the packed dirt surface of the camp. For at that time, the sun was an odious figure—or as odious as could be for the mind of a juvenile Pokémon. It represented utter confusion and perplexity; pain that my young brain refused to endure through mental processing. I spit at the darkness of Night, for it was the polar opposite of sunlight. I spit at the darkness of Night, for it delayed my photosynthetic activities to the next dawn. I spit at the Sun, for I did not want to disappear for twelve hours of agonizing Night. I spit at the Sun, for I did not understand why it disappeared every night—and what fortunate ones in a land far away would reap the benefits of the Sun that we were not so lucky to receive?

Perplexed as to where the sun went at Night, I had once, under my former Trainer, asked "Where is the sun at?" one sunset—not in the human tongue, though pointing towards the red-orange orb touching the sea. My former trainer replied, "The horizon." I was silent in reply—though after a moment of contemplative thinking, I briefly nodded my head in the usual endearing fashion, eliciting a smile from my former Trainer. As a Young Snivy, I at first grunted in jealousy that the sun was theirs every night at Horizon. But then, I grew concerned if those living at Horizon would survive the nightly ordeal. _What would it have been?_ I put my fallible imagination to the test. _The huge, fire-ball of orange glowing matter lowers on Horizon. The wooden domiciles catch fire all through the town. People scatter about the streets, the terror of the engulfing fire reflected in their eyes. Babies, human or Pokémon, burn helplessly, unable to escape from their crib prisons. Lovers separate to find a way out of the circumscribing flames, never to unite and love again. Children old enough to escape are abandoned by their mothers, the latter hoping they will survive and start anew and replace their lost progeny. For the fire awakened wild tendencies, an untamed jungle of total abandon. With the suffocating smoke rose self-importance above all matters, and ironically a cold heart in every adult soul._

Lost in the whirlwind of mental recollection, I had found myself and the Emolga escorted to a small tent. Only a faint indigo sky provided natural light by this time, invisible in comparison the bright campfire burning outside. Its glow filtered into the flimsy white canvas tent as a soft, orange flicker, its radiant heat a loathsome side effect in the warm summer night. Indistinct conversations of revelry are muffled by the thin fabric. Rough linen sheets of a crude sleeping space serve little more purpose than as inadequate protection against the pebbly, filthy ground sopped in rain from two nights ago.

"Are you all right?" The Emolga asked me. "You didn't say a word the whole time, and you look very agitated."

"Oh…it's nothing." She was referring to me in the embarrassing state of daydreaming. "C'mon, let's go outside and look at the pretty campfire!" I suggested enthusiastically.

"No, let's wait here," the Emolga replied, quickly returning a dejected expression to my face. "The big Pokémon told us to wait here so we can get 'checked-in'."

"C'mon, what harm can it do?" My eyes remained fixated on the orange flicker.

"Y'know, this reminds me of back in the time when I'd go camping," the Emolga tried to veer from the subject. "He'd snuggle us all up in sleeping bags…tell us stories of the dark woods that lay beyond."

"Weren't you scared?" The very absence of light frightened me, even as a mere evocation of such.

"Nah," the Emolga quickly dismissed my fear. "I knew they really didn't exist. Anyway, the night isn't that bad. Even if it's scary, I always remember that even though the sun disappears into the horizon, it'll rise back again. There'll always be another dawn waiting to rise."

"You know about Horizon?" My eyes widened in curiosity, my naiveté far too great at that age.

"Yeah." Her tiredness was visible, as she had began to wrap herself with the sheets and prepare for an early slumber. "It's all around us. No matter where you go, there'll be a horizon. But no matter where you are, you can't touch it."

 _I shall be the first!_ My eyes squinted, staring into space with determination. _I'll see my trainer again by tonight, and then I'll go on a mission with her and touch Horizon!_

"Where are you?" My restlessness was evermore finite in juvenile years. I ventured from the fragile confines of the tent, in search of my trainer.

My ears took notice of her voice, only thirty seconds from leaving the tent, walking in aimless direction. The familiar voice amplified to a scream as I drew myself closer and closer to her location, in the desolate outskirts of the camp. A smile appeared on my countenance only momentarily when I had at last caught sight of her, but quickly vanished when I discerned her current state of being.

The Machamp who had escorted us to the camp was otherwise engaged in relations with my female trainer that, at my early age, could not comprehend nor understand. An Emboar, if all indications were accurate the leader of the camp, had seized and held her from above, while the Machamp lay underneath. While their low-pitched grunts were audible, the most jarring sound of the spectacle was the high-pitched cries of my trainer as they pulled her closer to their bodies. I am now acquainted with this crime: it is the crime of rape, one which is not condoned in today's society, but still practiced by powerful warlords against their young mistresses.

I had seen evidence of this in Luxray Tanya once, despite her vehement denial of such an accusation. Her eyes hung low the days following the alleged incident, seeming to express discomfort and pensiveness. She had asked for two racks of Casteliacones to be sent to her office, a treat which she had expressed enjoying much as a young Shinx, but began to dislike as she grew older. When questioned about the warlord she had had an affair with, her decided silence spoke more than any of her tear-ridden reprimands for inappropriately prying into her personal life could.

I stood there, as a Snivy, witnessing my trainer succumb to the will of the two Pokémon. "Hey!" The Emboar yelled at me, in Pokémon speak. "Get outta here. Now." His eyes were squinted, staring at me with determination—the message was clear.

I so complied with the Pokémon's orders, leaving the female human at their little mercy.

I never dared seek the campfire's true flame again. The remainder of the night was spent in a painful silence, my eyes turned away from Emolga—her likewise. Since then, I am grateful for the night—for some things are best left unseen.


	5. Regarding Dissidents of One's Own Kind

(Yes, it's been a really long time. But thanks to "Dry Cleaning" for the question!)

Regarding Dissidents of One's Own Kind

They are called Collaborators. It is a label that is branded upon for the rest of their living days, however limited they may be. One should not be under the illusion that Collaborators are a rarity (as much as we and the Order desire such); many of them were former underlings to Trainers that had given them the illusion of treating them well, and as a result these Pokémon decided to work in humans' interests rather than their own. Explaining the actual fate of such a dissident, however, deserves a story.

It had been about 7 moons since my term commenced, when I had been on a routine inspection of our prisons: merely a holding ground before the criminals would be executed. Unlike humans, the Order dispensed of many inefficiencies and formalities, such as the trial and an appeals process. It was a reflection on the heartlessness of some Pokémon in the government. Their roots lay in commanding the militia that led to the Order's rise. Their roots lay in the bludgeoning of the enemy to a painful death, regardless of what would lay in their wake: an orphaned child, who would be tortured by other heartless means; a bereaved husband, who would not even have time to hear his wife's last words for he was taken by Arceus too soon; a lone survivor in a ravaged town, scavenging through the rubble, unfazed by his longtime friends' fatal demise, for his animalistic desire to seek food in the wreckage is all too strong.

"There are our cells, Your Excellency." An Emboar who served as guard was the guide through the labyrinthine passages of the prison, located perhaps not too far from Castelia, but whose exact located is best left unsaid for the sake of your personal safety and my own as well.

One prisoner caught my eye. He wasn't seated on the bench, eyes downcast, like most of the prisoners. He lay supine on the concrete-floor, mottled with colors of questionable origin and the stench of waste, for sanitation was inadequate: the hole in the ground was rarely emptied.

I stopped at this particular prisoner's cell. It took a while for the guard to notice I had stopped moving. He quickly ran back to where I sat quietly, staring into the bars of the prisoner's cell. The guard, not breaking the silence, bowed hesitantly in apology.

"Let me speak to him," I ordered. As I had learned from previous experience, succinct commands are often the best in reinforcing one's authority over the other.

The guard opened the cell. "His Excellency Serperior Phillip wishes to see you. Stand at attention!" He barked. The prisoner carried out the order, not even the slightest flinch in expression or visceral instinct, slave to his own motions. The lack of variance in his countenance and his body was the variance itself. He continued to stand rigid.

I circled the prisoner. He was a Pignite, though no sense of brethren was observed between him and the guard, who almost eerily mimicked the prisoner's stance, guarding the open cell door. His eyes were still intensely fixated on mine, eyeballs furtively following my path while still standing rigid, glazed in salty sweat.

"Leave us alone!" My voice echoed in the cell. The guard bowed silently, and left.

It was about a full minute before the sound of the guard's heavy footsteps faded into the distance. I stared intently out into the hallway for any sign of movement.

Silence reigned for the first few minutes in the dark cell. A small barred window cast a meaningful shadow over the Pignite. The soft glow of artificial light formed a silhouette of my figure, my facial expressions all but invisible to the prisoner. At once, I could see the trembling figure of the Pignite, suffering from both fear and the icy breeze leaking through the cracks of the cell walls; my imposing figure, over the helpless creature that was now an Enemy of the Liberation Order, but was now at my very mercy. It was a pitiful sight. It was an empowering sight. Tears were fighting to be released from the corners of my eyes. My vines were fighting to be released in lashes of fury and revenge. My heart bled. My body raged. I spoke.

"Are you getting enough to eat?" Pity had won the battle.

He had relaxed from his position at attention, and was currently seated at the bench in the cell. "What do you think?" He replied, his teeth clenched in.

Regret forced my mind to quickly retreat from the subject. "Do you realize that you are to die in three days' time?"

"Yes," he responded, much more quickly than I had expected.

"Do I get a final request?" He added.

My mind pored through years of studying the laws of the Unova Liberation Order. "The Prisoner's Code, Section 5, Article 332 explicitly states the prohibition of the last request for someone sentenced to death, for it is reminiscent of barbaric human tradition and their merciless rule over the forever glorious Pokémon race!" The books had seized control of me. My voice had risen to a shout against my will.

"Please…show mercy, Your Excellency." Tears had cascaded from his eyes, the bones visibly trembling in his emaciated body. "I…I…have not seen my dear mate and children, since your secret police took me away for writing 'against the will of the Order'. Now I am destined to die, my time is running out, I'll never see her again, please! Please! Let me see her, just one last time."

My reputation was fragile, for my term was still very young. "Government regulations dictate that I am not permitted to admit any visitors to prisoners at this time."

"Please…I haven't seen them in fifteen years! Now I am to die…"

My eyes remained fixed at the door, turned away from the prisoner, who had collapsed to the ground at his point in a most distraught state of mind.

"In accordance with regulations, I am not permitted to admit any visitors to prisoners at this time." The Prisoner's Code, Section 4, Article 204.

"Please…!" My naïveté was evident; the sympathy I had hinted at in the beginning did not strengthen him. Rather, it reduced him to the level of groveling on the dirtied floor, the origins of the dirt leaking from him as he begged. His absolute fear was evident.

"In accordance with regulations, I am not permitted to admit…any…visitors…to prisoners…erm…at this time." My speech grew hastier as the prisoner's puddle of urine began to flow to the place where I stood. He forced his eyes to be downcast, as if I was the blinding sun that gave him blessed life, but he had to shield his eyes from to survive. As I lowered my head to the level of the groveling Pignite, his eyes squeezed tighter, his body trembled more. The sun brought Horizon to its knees. Burnt it to the ground. Power surged through my serpentine body, the electricity of it charging me with inimical thoughts.

"GUARD!" My voice called, before the surge would make a host of me and commit deeds worthy of regret. I stared at the prisoner's relatively unscarred body with envy. I left the cell, left the prisoner, and left a fresh coat of sweat, saturating the prisoner's skin with its saltiness.

* * *

"You have a visitor." I escorted said visitor through the prisoner's cell the eve of his execution.

"Pignite Linda! My dear mate!"

"I should desire to leave you both. And this I shall do." I made my way towards the door.

"And you said I would never have the chance to see anyone!" The prisoner continued. "You, standing there so high and mighty. What good is it for you? The heights you have attained is only more room…for you to fall."

"In accordance with regulations, prisoners are not to speak out in a belligerent manner towards guards and superior officers visiting the prison."

"Say whatever you like. I'm not afraid of you anymore! Did you hear that? Hmm?"

"I am instructed to beat you with the most practical means available…but I will leave this to the guards who work here."

He ignored my warnings. "Tell me I'm right! Admit it! Admit that you were wrong! You, high and mighty official, were wrong! WRONG! Ha! Turn and look me in the eye, high and mighty official. Admit your wrongs, high and mighty official. Admit the truth, not the high-up ideology you espouse; high and mighty official. Hello! I'm speaking to you!"

A heavy heart made the eyes refuse to turn and look back at him again, the mouth refuse to open to speak. I quickly left the cell, glimpse averted, words withheld.

The prisoner, nor I at that precise moment were aware of the reason as to why the rules against visitation and the final request were so blatantly broken. It was to become evident to both of us within the following hour.

All words of their conversation could be heard and parsed through the aid of telepathic psychic Pokémon, sitting in an adjoining room. I am under the impression humans use a different technology for a similar purpose; but its precise name I am unaware of.

"My dear Linda…"The prisoner said. I gained knowledge of his entire conversation through the technique I have just mentioned. "When will you ever forgive me?"

The female mate was silent.

"It's okay, Linda." He managed through choking tears. "You don't have to speak. I am to be killed tomorrow. We must make the moment last."

The mate spoke at last, after a long pause. "Wipe those fucking tears off your face and face your mate like a grown male!"

"What!?" The prisoner cried.

"You are a traitor, you are!"

"What!?"

"I'm ashamed to have you as my partner."

"What!?"

"I had the gall to espouse those traitorous ideas you have. Now the Forever Omnipotent has taught me better: the Unova Liberation Order has taught what it means to truly be a Pokémon. You are no Pokémon. And I am not to be with a creature so traitorous, of such…depravity, that he would turn against his very own kind?"

"…what?" was still the only word he could manage.

As the tirade of insults ensued, each caustic word laid upon his traumatized ears, all he continued to say, without fail, was "What", "What", his entire countenance tortured and wrought with hapless confusion.

* * *

The books had seized control of the prisoner's very own mate. It was always evident when the books had taken control of a Pokémon. The arrogant, raised tone they shouted in. Their violent gesticulations. Their betrayal of the ones nearest and dearest to them. Some succumb earlier, the schoolbooks and toys of the youth saturated with Liberation slogans and ideologies; some succumb later on, through speeches and massive rallies where it was all but impossible to give in to the will of the greater body; but all give in at some point.

Or they are taken from their homes in the dark. And sentenced to death.

He was eaten alive at the morrow; sharp, callous fangs making little chore of a corpulent Pignite.

* * *

(Thanks for reading! As always, you can post questions via a review or PM, and Serperior Phillip will do his best to answer them in a future chapter.)


	6. Regarding the Title and Communism

(Thanks to "Doodlefish0" for this question! This chapter contains graphic content. Please advise caution.)

Regarding the Title and Communism

Perhaps some of my audience feel my ostensible concern and sympathy towards other creatures, both human and Pokémon, does not bear similarity to that of an official of the upper echelons of Our Liberation Order. Let me set your worries aside, that barbarity still rages on, even in the most weathered of souls.

I had quickly learned from my troubled affair with Sympathy after visiting the cells of the fatally-sentenced Pignite. Harm can only be brought on by kind words; they were but an impregnable layer of honey, waiting to feasted on by a swarm of irascible Beedrill.

My mind may beg to be absolved of the mere recollections of terrible moments, for they are such a sin—but in my heart boils the primal desire for the very values that the Liberation Order espouses. It is the same for Luxray Tanya, or the Pignite condemned to death. In the hearts of all the Pokémon, a healthy fire burns, cauterizing the painful folds of kindness before it overcomes the entire heart, turning it wrinkled and weary from helpless exhaustion.

This is the belief that the Order inculcates into their loyal followers: the Divine Arceus brought each of us upon the earth, given vines, flame throwers, scalchops. Our attacks are undoubtedly for combat, for the destruction of others. In fact, it is by mercy, the opposite of destruction, that the human race was led to its demise. Violence is destruction. This is a point that which they have failed to realize.

With mercy, the humans let their hands turn to mush, unable to wield the spears that they had crafted from the earliest stages of their development. Their hands could only perform one task, by the point of no return: to reach their hand out, palm upturned in hopes that a fellow human would grab it. The desire for helpless camaraderie grew, until the population grew beyond sustainable means. Instead of the mercy they desired, humans saw their chain of hands break apart. Society split into innumerable factions, disease and poverty infected the populace as resources were stretched to its upper limits. Destruction was inevitable in such a world. But the human kindness sought to delay such a natural cycle of creation and destruction, until it inevitably manifested into sudden, unrelentingly destructive wars that claimed the lives of millions.

Communism sought to solve this human problem. Through collectivization of resources, they hoped to bring the people of their society together, to form the chain of human hands again. But the fact was the insufficiency of resources could not be denied, and this manufactured equality only brought famine to an even wider population. Destruction that had to be done to keep society in order was done forcefully, through manufactured camps of torture. Even in such a conducive environment, the quality of mercy is not strained…in the human heart, making the process far too inefficient.

In the Liberation Order, such destruction is natural. Pokémon kill each other on a regular basis, same as young as four months out of their egg, and their parents proudly accede to their children's destructive tendencies, knowing it only natural for a victor to emerge from a fatal duel. Perhaps a parent of the loser would softly weep in mourning, but her cries could not be heard even in a windswept plain, devoid of vegetation. To my knowledge, this is true. Allow me to mention a story of personal experience, which must have occurred perhaps a sixteen-moon and 4 moons into my term as Second-in-Command.

* * *

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

* * *

A female Emolga entered my office, without an appointment, appearing in the most distraught state. Although they are well known for their nurturing traits, this characteristic is highly variable among the species.

She sat on the floor opposite to my desk. I shifted forward as to be able to see her smallish body over my tall desk. The administrative building of the Unova Liberation Order was originally built for humans, but the rooms were optimized for every occupant's varying anatomy. Chairs were removed in my office, although they were necessary for smaller Pokémon working in the building.

After the basic introductions, I began my questioning. "What can I do for you?"

"Perhaps…perhaps I should just tell you what happened." The electric type was noticeably agitated.

"If you wish."

"I live in a smaller settlement, under the command of a warlord. I am the oldest child, almost an adult, but I still live with my mother and two siblings. My father gave his life to the Order, may Arceus bless him, serving in the Liberation Army. My youngest brother was but 3 months out of his egg, and as my mother has ill for a long time, I am basically like a mother to him."

"And he is dead." The past tense was an indicator of this.

The Emolga's nervousness was replaced by sadness. "…yes. One month ago, my younger brother died. He was only three months out of his egg."

"I'm sorry. Was his passing in a noble cause?"

"Yes. He had insulted the Order, and he was killed as a result."

"Of course." It was without question. "And what exactly was the nature of his insult?"

She told me the exact words her younger brother had said.

"I…I see, well, of course—"

Just then I abruptly lost my ability to speak. Familiarity had paralyzed me. What the Emolga had told me reminded me of a Snivy, many years ago, locked in a dark vehicle, sent to a city of tents, a few steps from the town of Horizon, which was burning. Burning to the ground.

"Serperior Philip?"

"Hmm…yes?" Hearing my name was enough for the familiarity to disappear. "I'm terribly sorry. Please continue."

"Well…he just insulted the Order, outright, just like that. Within earshot of at least five other Pokémon and fifteen human slaves. We were standing in the center of the village."

"And what did you do?"

"I…I told him he couldn't insult the Order like that. He hurt my feelings too, saying all those disparaging comments about the Superior Government. He wouldn't listen to me. He just wouldn't…listen…and I…the Order could not hear his unworthy cries. No, the Order would not stand for it. I shocked him to death. It was so quick, too. I didn't realize it could be so easy to kill someone."

"You have done nobly, Emolga."

"It's Emolga _Janice_." She seemed quite serious.

"You have done nobly, Emolga _Janice_. You have not committed any misdeed, and I congratulate you for your actions. What is the nature of your complaint?"

"The place I live, everyone has killed their Pokémon for going against the Order. Children are being killed as fast as they are being born. But my heart tells me they are children, they make mistakes. Just because a Snivy walks into a restricted area or a Riolu forgets to swear allegiance to the Leader before meals or a Tepig …a Tepig consumed his meal with utensils once used by the cursed humans. No! No! NO!" She grew hysterical towards the end.

It was odd that all these doctrines were foreign to my habits. In moments of informality, it was common for me to disregard such rules. Perhaps my elevation in the hierarchy of the Order was cushion of my mistakes, the humans at the lowest tier burned every time they committed wrongs.

"You seem to suffer pain. Are you ill?" I asked.

"No, I am not in pain."

"Then why do you behave so? It is your brother that is suffering pain at the mercy of our Great Arceus."

"He is of my own flesh and blood. I have suffered because my brother has suffered."

I paused. "By the Perfect Lineage of Our Almighty Arceus, we are all united. The blood we shed is the blood you shed. Our misdeeds are your misdeeds." To directly acknowledge her veracity would imply weakness.

"I'll never forget that look on his face as he drew his last breath. He was trying to say something. I know he was. I wanted to say 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, goodbye, goodbye', but could not muster the courage to say so. When I finally said it, he was gone. Oh, Serperior Philip, my body is indebted to the Order, my heart indebted to Arceus, but my soul…is indebted to my beloved brother." Perhaps she had said this to spite me. But with the mercy and control that Arceus has imbued upon my soul, I withheld my objection, at least temporarily.

I grew more succinct. "Time is precious, Emolga…Emolga Janice. Errant children are a shame to the Integrity and Absolute Harmony of the Supremeness of the Unova Liberation Order." It was tempting to become hysterical myself as those words flowed out. "What is your inquiry? Hmm?"

"All these killings…it hurts me to see it all. I feel they can't be right. That is why I have to come to petition to stop the killing. To ban the killing of other Pokémon by Pokémon."

My eyes examined the droplets of rain against the window of my commandeered office, making foreign trails of water against the thick glass. It served as distraction from the similar droplets on the face of the small electric type.

"You do understand that that cannot be done."

"Then I'll take it up with the Pokémon above you."

I turned away from the raindrops for a moment. "Do believe me in my saying that my superiors would not avail you any further with your…dilemma, shall we say." Sympathy could not be withheld from such a docile creature as she was.

"Please, I already took it up to the Regional Warlord, the Lower Council…they all said to talk to you." One had to concede her bravery was admirable, being the small size she was in comparison to the leaders of the Order. Despite her blatant insults to the Order, it hit upon one's morality to add another wound to her body yourself. But what was practical never was clean.

"I beg of you, Serperior Philip!" She implored again. "At least give it some thought."

I did what was necessary for me. My vine whip had sufficient power to bruise her. She lay limp in the corner for a moment, before rising as triumphantly as her comparatively small body could over me. My head could touch the ceiling without difficulty.

"That's what you have to do. Okay. Fine. But you can listen to me, you don't have to do anything different, just listen. You're a coward, that's what you are. A fucking, lying, hypocritical coward. Resorting to violence to express yourself.

"Humans were never so cruel. My mother used to have a trainer. A human trainer. She said humans were kind, loving creatures. Until the Pokémon warlords came and enslaved all the humans. The warlords said they'd help us…but they didn't do shit! And then every time she came back from work at the warlord's office, she kept getting more and more hurt. Until my mother could barely walk, and the warlords wouldn't even give her medical care! We claim to be superior to them, but are we really? Are we?"

Her small figure disguised her many years of wisdom. She was almost old enough to be a mother, after all. And mothers always were the ones who suffered the most when they passed large eggs through their body, the oval objects carrying the future of the Order in thick suspension fluid.

The pain and bleeding was always greater than the pleasure of creating the egg. Often so painful, that many females of higher (and more respectable) status simply did not have offspring. It came to be a symbol of status, to be childless yet promiscuous. Luxray Tanya did not have any children, despite having many lovers.

The Emolga's complexion was fair, her skin taut and firm, her body small but able. She did not seem worthy of pain. But with her hurtful words to the Order, the Order gave her hurt. If only as I pained her, I could ease her pain, sustain her calm just…until calmness was natural, pain forever gone, and the cold wind takes over the life that once occupies the dead body.

With my serpentine body above her, my cowardice turned to predation…and utter exhilaration. Her small size was not a detractor; on the contrary, it proved to be rather a novelty, much unlike my trips into the closet with Luxray Tanya during work. The faint sparks that emitted from the Emolga added sufficient familiarity to the experience. While I did this, I began beating, although I surmise it was unnecessary, as I would have caused fatal injury to the Emolga's small body by intercourse alone.

* * *

My crimson irises cast images on the window as I faced the night outside. I was not deceived in seeing the color red reflected against the glass. But whether it was my eyes of the blood escaping from the Emolga I should never know. All I knew was I was proud. Proud to be red. Proud to have not let the cleansing raindrops wash away my soul. My mistake with the Pignite was not to be excused without further action. This way, my misdeeds have been absolved.

Why did the blood flow out? Out and away? The raindrops on my 23rd floor office cascaded in perfect vertical trails, like a group of obedient soldiers in rank and file. The Emolga continued laying there, bleeding flat on the ground. Bloodshed refuses to stand. It flows outward in irregular patterns, spreading and seeping into surfaces. It enriches pride with the iron content, the work of molding and creating iron being a symbol of labor, a labor that perhaps could perhaps eclipse the bloodshed of giving life. The pain the Emolga felt as she suffocated in her blood would never rival the pain of passing a bulbous egg through her tiny body. For it is only when there is a greater pain than birth…that children are forgotten.

* * *

The next morning, I ordered the carpet to be replaced with wood flooring. When enquired as to why, I explained that being a Serperior and not a human, the carpet was too rough for me to slither on it. The human laborers who did the work were executed upon completion of the task.

"'Why does Mommy always get hurt by the warlord, why does Mommy always get raped by the warlord,'" I kept muttering to myself. Those were the fatal words for a young male Emolga somewhere in Unova, just three months out of his egg.

And for his sister as well. Both of them wise beyond their years.

Some things are best left unseen.

* * *

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

* * *

A murder of a human slave, a fatal Solar Beam on a small Pokémon…they are all insignificant weights upon the conscience, compared to a great, destructive war or a sudden famine. Yet each small action of destruction collectively keeps the society in order. Excessive population growth shall be quickly subdued by natural unrest caused by crowded conditions, and the populace is returned to agreeable levels.

The Liberation Order does not make any effort to slow this natural process; rather, all that is possible is done to encourage its progression. This was the guiding principle of all the Pokémon warlords and their policies, however different they claimed to be in their fiery speeches. Random killings of both humans and Pokémon "in the name of the Order" were committed on a routine basis. The only destruction that they did not favor is that of themselves, for even as they witnessed the bloodbath of both humans and Pokémon dying in the name of their survival, even a droplet of blood on their flawless countenances would render them delirious from fright.

Through destruction, there is creation. And so, the Pokémon shall be forever omnipotent.

I have provided my commentary on human society and its fundamental weaknesses, a topic that I believe the founders of communism were most dutifully engaged in solving for the betterment of their society. Although I have mentioned this branch of political thought in the text, I lack sufficient knowledge of the subject to draw a comparison any more complex than the one I have told the reader, even as elementary as my claims may seem. Although the term "Manifesto" in the title of this publication implies a connection to communism and their own manifesto, perhaps it is only by coincidence this similarity occurred. I desire that the interested reader will draw his own personal conclusions through the information I have provided above.

* * *

(Well, here it is, a long-awaited update to "The Pokemon Manifesto"! Hope you liked it! **You can submit questions for Serperior Philip about the Unova Liberation Order by posting a review or sending a PM. Your questions may be answered in a future chapter.** )

(Thanks again, and hope you enjoyed reading! Be sure to comment on your thoughts! Constructive criticism is welcome.)


	7. Regarding Offspring

(Here we are...a long-awaited update of The Pokemon Manifesto! Let's just get right to the story...hope you enjoy!)

(NOTE: This chapter contains some controversial themes. Please advise caution.)

Regarding Offspring

Offspring could not be discouraged in any society. Descendants carry the burden that their predecessors drew from the earth, every generation destined to collapse under the accumulating weight. If there was not a new generation to follow, the society would be overcome by the weight and be forever buried away from existence.

Although it is not the course of nature, the most preferable demographic in a self-contained population is disproportionately more females than males, reasons of which are as follows. While the required obligation for a male is but a few minutes, the female must protect her egg for its entire period of incubation, typically one or two moons. Therefore, females are of greater value and should be in larger quantities. (In the emotional context of the male especially, having a greater number of females is desirable.) Many of the warlords, who are male, ensure this through organized extermination of young males. It is, therefore, difficult for males to survive beyond adulthood; certain qualities must be present.

These certain qualities do vary among the governance of various warlords, but general criteria include first and foremost, promiscuity (the perceived value of the male is, after all, only valid if the desire is present); followed by honor and diligence (for activity of the criminal sort does tend be more prevalent among males); and also physical strength (for the safety of an independent Pokémon society is often dependent on such).

* * *

I wish to recall a moment when I was but a Snivy, a resident to the village where I was relocated to after the incident noted previously (Regarding My Beginning). The village was one or two Ponyta-days (the amount of distance covered by a Ponyta in the span of daylight, abbreviated as Pd) away from Castelia City, where my now incumbent position would later take me. But that is more than several Sm (abbreviation of sixteen-moon) away from this particular moment.

Growing up, I had a close friendship to one Shinx, Shinx Toby. He was the first of two offspring, born but a few days after me, and we had become well acquainted shortly after we had crossed paths at the village to which we were both relocated.

I have studied the human's anatomy and physiology in the past with great interest, and it is of great surprise to me of how much slower their physical development is in comparison to Ours. If humans could only crawl for the first twelve to sixteen moons of their lives, it is counterintuitive, in my opinion, that they emerged as the superior race up until 20 or 30 Sm ago. Pokémon typically develop their full mature motor skills after no more than 1 moon or so out of their egg.

This only further proves the innate superiority of the Omnipotent Pokémon kind. Arceus had intended us to thrive, to never be slowed by the four chains of infanthood that humans suffer from. It all makes sense.

Communication, however, requires similar time to develop for Pokémon as for humans. I had developed early in this regard; I learned to communicate in the Pokémon tongue only a few moons after my birth. Shinx Toby's development was more typical. For the first seven or eight moons of our interaction, we played together; but I silently listened to his crying, his laughter, and his experimental grunts and squeaks. We particularly enjoyed racing with each other in our spare time.

Snivy, by nature, are extremely agile creatures. But in terms of brute speed, I could not outrun the powerful legs of a Shinx. While I was precocious in intellectual development, Shinx Toby excelled in his physical development. When I crossed the finish line (a crack in the dry mud), I would be greeted by Toby's unquenchable stare, as he tackled me and pinned me to the floor. I would try to wriggle free as he pressed his body close to me. It was my penalty for being second place in the race.

"Let me go! Let me go!" I would plead, although it was in vain, for Toby was unable to understand Pokémon speech. We would wrestle until Toby grew tired, typically before the sunset, although sometimes the struggle continued in darkness.

On the day he learned how to communicate effectively, the first thing Toby declared to me was: "I'm gonna be the most famous of all!" Immediately afterwards, he challenged me to another race. I longed for us to wrestle again.

The rules vary among different villages, but the rules of which we were subject to were as follows: young males would be inspected at the age of 32 moons, then appropriately dealt with; in other words executed if necessary. This makes perfect sense to me, as around 2 Sm is typically the point that which all Pokémon are capable of reproduction, and their role comes to be of societal importance.

Under my current position as a government official in the Order, it has become aware to me that some warlords are less scrupulous: some warlords put the inspection age later at 3 or 4 Sm, perhaps due to lack of oversight or imprudent judgment; while some place the cutoff age much earlier, perhaps 1 Sm, or even less than that. It is my belief that some warlords take undue pleasure in the abuse of young males, which is often done when the young male is deemed unfit, before he is executed. Although I do not have personal evidence of such occurrences, I conclude that this is by design; these iniquitous warlords are far too clever to let such an atrocity be exposed.

* * *

As the fateful day approached for Toby and I, the elders in the village all agreed informally that I would not survive. Of course they would not intentionally make this known to me; I overheard by sitting in an adjoining room to their gathering spot, holding my ear close to the wall so as to hear their conversation.

"Philip showed no interest in Tanya," one of the elders was saying. "We had placed them close together at the last village gathering, and they did not even experiment sexually."

"But do you blame them?" Another elder objected. "They are of very different species."

"All Philip does is spend time with Toby, spend time with Toby. All he wants to do is be with Toby. And wrestle with him."

"It shows Philip's physical capability is perhaps understated," one elder surmised. "He may live, we can never know."

"Speaking of which, what about Toby? An excellent candidate for survival."

"But his violent outbursts are not desirable. Such mischief must be controlled."

"He's a very honorable young Pokémon," one elder insisted. "Only yesterday, he helped me oversee my human slaves for the big harvest while I was away on other business."

"But it's obvious that his mother must have pressured him into it," another elder replied. "I couldn't see Toby do such a thing of his own volition."

"Toby is a very obedient young Pokémon, nonetheless. When he's called for duty, he won't even say one word of protest."

"He never smiles, as I've seen," one elder chimed in.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I don't know. It's just when I see a young Pokémon like him that never smiles…I always figure something's up."

"But he'll survive."

"Oh yes, for sure." Even the elder that was against young Pokémon who didn't smile agreed.

"If Philip is dying, then Toby will survive."

"Yes, yes, definitely," all the elders said in unison.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Philip," Toby comforted me that night. I had come over to his dwelling for dinner. The hour was late by this point, and most of the town's diurnal residents had fallen asleep.

"I'm sure you'll make a great adult Pokémon," I assured Toby. "I heard you helped oversee all the human slaves on an elder's farm. That's a tough job."

"Yeah. I had to feed the humans too." He gave me a familiar look of disgust. "I didn't wanna do it, you know—my mother pressured me to it. 'This is the only way you'll survive with that mischievous mind of yours, Toby,' she said to me. 'An overseer would be the perfect job for you.'"

"I once had to feed one of the elder's slaves," I noted. "Disgusting creatures. I was pulling the huge crate of food from the shelter, and they were practically swarming around me! I was terrified. Humans are in their appropriate place, for sure. Barbaric creatures, I dare say."

"No, it wasn't that I was disgusted by. It's how we treat these humans."

"What!?" I leaned closer.

"Think about it. Humans were such powerful creatures less than 10 Sm ago. What makes us think that they're not as strong and capable as us Pokémon? And they don't kill males when they're 32 moons of age, either. What makes us think that our society isn't barbaric?"

"You're…you're stupid, Toby," I jested with him, trying to hide my disdain with a chuckle.

"Am I laughing? Look, am I smiling? That's the problem, I never smile. Ever since I learned how to communicate, I don't smile. And you know why? Because I can hear. I can understand. It's torture to hear reality. I hate this reality. How are we ever gonna be famous? We're never gonna be famous in this stupid Liberation Order.

"Think about when we were with trainers. Arceus, I can barely remember…it was only a few days out of my egg…I remember using my attacks to defeat an enemy Pokémon. I was so proud of myself. Now, I can only use my attacks to silence the already pitiable human slave." Firing an attack so as to intentionally hurt another Pokémon is a crime of Collaboration, for it harkens to the age of orchestrated mutual destruction of Pokémon during the era of human trainers.

"What kind of power is that?" Toby continued. "What kind of dignity is that? And I can never become a warlord, the offspring of the warlord always takes over. When will I ever be powerful? When will I ever be famous in this stupid Liberation Order?"

"You could get into trouble for thoughts like that, Toby," I did not wish to see him die. I had warned him, even in the last days of his life.

"I know. That's why…I wanna become a journalist."

"A journalist?"

"You know, the Pokémon that write the news publication, what's it called, _Pokémon Freedom Daily_. I got the idea from my older sister, Tanya. She says she wants to be a journalist too. That way, I can express my ideas with relative freedom, without getting into trouble. But there really isn't any need for that, either. Tomorrow, I'm…I'm gonna be famous," he smiled, for the first time that night.

My eyes shot up. "What're you gonna do?"

"I'm…I'm not telling you. But you'll know it when you see it. Now, you must promise that…when you see it, you won't try to stop me. You gotta keep quiet. You promise?"

I nodded with reluctance.

"It's bound to work. After that, I'll be sure to be famous." He turned to me. Our eyes locked, and his face softened. "But even if I become famous…I won't forget you, Philip, such a beautiful little Snivy." He touched the side of my body with surprising affection.

I think it worth noting at this point that our friendship had grown to one of a more intimate nature; as much as Toby liked to deny it, we were hopelessly attracted to each other. Although from the reader's perspective, our ages during the partnership may seem deplorable (we were both 2 Sm out of our egg at the time), do note that most Pokémon reach sexual maturity around this time. While the wherewithal exists for a long period of time, most Pokémon choose to refrain from having children until much later, perhaps when they are 15 to 20 Sm of age, as is encouraged by most warlords and the central government. Having experienced and mentally mature parents is more conducive to the well-being of the child.

Sexual experimentation, however, is not actively discouraged (nor encouraged) at any age as long as both parties are consenting. In the last few moons I was with Toby, we would wrestle each other in the privacy of our dwelling, without a race to precede it.

"Have you told your parents that you like males?" Toby gently released his grip on me. I quickly turned to face him, in response to the sudden loss of warmth.

"No. It's not like they would understand. And I'm…I guess I'm confused. Maybe I like females as well. I'm not sure. Anyway, my liking males only proves even more that I'm not gonna survive."

"I won't forget you, Philip. Even if I do…find a female mate someday…I'll always remember you."

"Th…thanks, Toby. Would you take me home? It's really dark outside."

Toby's electric sparks lit the way as I held his muscular flank tightly, afraid of losing my way. Perhaps I could hold on to him again when he passed from old age and met Arceus, as I would have many many sixteen-moons ago—executed at the age of 32 moons. Every hour of my death, I would be waiting for him to arrive.

* * *

Even the elders did not know who would or would not survive that morning. Our particular warlord would appoint several officials from the Unova Liberation Order's central power to oversee the inspection, in effort to make his policies as transparent as possible. But as a result of this, the process was inherently inefficient. There were thirty males aged 32 moons in the village; one by one, we were called into the room, an imposing stone structure designed specifically for this purpose.

"This is taking forever," Toby complained of the long queue. "I'ma see what's going on." He gave up his position on the line and used his powerful legs to charge into the locked door. He failed the first time, but succeeded the second time.

"Don't walk in there, no!" I cried out, breaking my promise. Toby probably never forgave me when he was executed a few days later.

What Toby saw and heard was the reality that he hated the most. To aid the narrative, I have acquired knowledge of Tepig's fate through formal records, of which are obtainable considering by current status as a government official. A young male Tepig was chained to the floor, each of his four legs restrained and a larger chain across his belly. A Servine, an Eelektross, and a Galvantula were present, the latter two responsible for administering the fatal punishment. The other Pokémon officials, including the warlord himself, had taken a break. The officials present were just about to initiate the final fatal electrocution when a loud banging noise was heard. The electrocution occurred the very moment Toby broke down the door.

"I'll save you! I'll save you Tepig!" Toby was reported to have said, before he was sedated with a mild electric shock.

The young Tepig was helpless against his captors and died, according to plan. The officials detained Toby for trespassing. Later, he would be imprisoned and executed as a Collaborator, in a procedure similar to the one the Pignite was subject to (Regarding Dissidents of One's Own Kind).

At that moment, Toby's mother watched as the officials dragged him out the door that he had triumphantly broken down a few moments ago. "Why did you do that, Toby? Why? Why?" His mother was in tears.

The electrocution likely caused his mind to regress to his youth. "Look at me, mommy. I did it. I'm famous. I'm famous." The smile the crossed his face was unfathomable; it was so wide and beaming, it could not be measured.

Toby's bereaved sister continues to remain secretive about her family's past. Luxray Tanya, when asked, says that she has no siblings. The shame of being related to such a prominent dissident in Unova would be far greater than the burden of keeping the secret. Of course I, and now you, the reader, know the truth.

* * *

By some Divine Will of Arceus, against all odds, I was spared; and continue to live, past the age of 32 moons. Perhaps I was lucky. I was lucky in that I should have never passed the age of 32 moons, that I should in truth have been executed. Executed for being a sinful creature upon the righteous world. That weighs upon me still today, that inherent sin that I have survived with for longer than 32 moons.

Through my current actions I can perhaps cover the sin with the whiteness of righteous deeds to further the progress of our Triumphant Order. And then perhaps Arceus may absolve me when I meet him. That is why I strive to uphold the characteristics of a true alpha male: promiscuity, honor, and physical strength. Qualities of promiscuity, honor, and physical strength.

Sometimes when I am with Luxray Tanya and she pins me down to the floor in a moment of ecstasy, I imagine that I am with dear Toby once again, wrestling as we did as young Pokémon. The siblings are so remarkably similar, in character and looks as well.

* * *

(Thanks for reading! As always, Serperior Philip is willing to answer any questions you have about the Unova Liberation Order in a future chapter. Just post a review or send a PM.)


	8. Regarding the Punishment of Humans

(Thanks for reading! Here we are with a new update! Hope you enjoy! Questions about the AU are welcome, and may be answered in a future chapter!)

Regarding the Punishment of Humans of Notable Status in Unova

Correction (Regarding Offspring): _The Ponyta-day, or Pd, was used as a unit in some warlord territories of Unova during the early period, and is currently archaic. The Ponyta-day uses the leisurely trotting speed of the Ponyta as a reference; as this is relative, it could not be standardized and was therefore not formally adopted. The accepted unit is the milli-Rapidash-day, or mRd, which is one-thousandth the amount of distance a Rapidash can run (at maximum speed) in the typical span of daylight._

 _Three mRd is roughly equivalent to one Ponyta-day; or in the archaic units used by humans, about 2.4 miles or 3.9 km._

* * *

For the duration of my narrative, I have failed to mention any blood relations. Rest assured that such is due to oversight and carelessness when writing, rather than deliberate ignorance. I have been, and still am, familiar (in all meanings of the word) with my father, Serperior Jarvis. He himself was a wild Pokémon of considerable physical strength, albeit inadequate against the cursed human trainer—who moved to capture not him, but his precious children—myself being one of the unfortunate victims.

It was only after the Liberation of Unova that I at last became acquainted with my father, for the time I was separated from him—a few days out of my egg—meant that memories of my father before Unova's Liberation are for all intents and purposes, nonexistent. My first encounter with my father was shortly after the incident I highlighted in the previous chapter (Regarding Offspring). Once a male Pokémon has passed 2 Sm, they may leave their villages and can be accepted as fully independent members of society. It was when I was about 2 Sm and 3 moons that it first came to my knowledge that my father had a key role in the early trials against the human war criminals.

"Father, why won't you take me to eat Casteliacones? I'm hungry." Still a fairly young Snivy and with lack of diversion on some days, I often pestered my father in his Castelia City office—very similar in appearance to my current office in the same building (Regarding the Title and Communism).

"When will Professor Juniper be put on trial?" I asked.

"Don't let such things fear your mind, my son. We haven't found her, but I have no doubt we shall soon. But we've taken in over 100 humans with connections to her. A particularly exhausting ordeal, I must confess, but, we must all make sacrifices for the Order—Our Great Arceus only expects it from us."

More precisely, my father served as an English interpreter in the questioning and trial proceedings. Such a specialized role is vital, for intellect in the battlefield—as demanded by key Pokémon warlords of the Liberation Order—often does not translate into intellect of language and effective communication. Even currently, Pokémon with this bilingual ability are far and wide.

My father was an exception: self-taught in English communication, and learned to read and write in the human language within a few moons of studious practice—it has always been known to me that my father's intellectual abilities far surpass mine.

"I'm scared we won't find the Professor," I admitted to Father. "What if she comes back and captures us all again?"

"Fear not, Philip, we shall soon find the accursed bastion of Our Contemptible Bondage, and bring her to justice! But in the meantime, you should learn the human language, while you're still young. If we ever fall into a little skirmish with our human rivals once more, it will be necessary to communicate on the level of humans to assert any form of diplomacy."

"'Diplomacy'? 'Rivals'? But the humans are bad," I insisted. "The definition of bad. We shouldn't even be compromising with those hideous creatures. Why should we be adopting their customs and their language?"

"You are ahead of your time, my dear son. Perhaps when you are my age the scourge of humans shall no longer be a relevant threat. But in the meantime it would be foolish of us to ignore the presence of our inferiors—after all, it such a mindset among humans against us that brought the conflict to a head, culminating in the inevitable Liberation."

Any humans alleged to have connection with Professor Juniper were summoned to the temporary court. The lack of the principal suspect only made the connections longer and more tenuous. Although it took many moons for the Juniper Trials (so they are now called) to be processed, considering the number of people that were tried and convicted I suppose it was done as expediently as possible. Inefficiency is not appreciated nor tolerated in Our Order. Armed battles against human settlers were ongoing during the Trials.

* * *

One particular trial I was audience to—which my memory serves me well with—was the trial of Ghetsis. Members of Team Plasma were not immune to the wrath of Our Cause. Although their ostensible motto was that of Pokémon Liberation, all benevolent ideas—when they fall into the cursed hands of humans—are doomed to fail. It was suggested at one point—among the early founders of the Order's central authority—that all Pokémon warlords may be compelled to sign a non-aggression pact with loyal Team Plasma members.

But Pokémon's innate hatred of humans was rekindled by the bloodshed of our heroic battles, and the ideas of teams dissolved, the only sectional divisions of life remaining being those of kind: Pokémon against humans. Humans against Pokémon; with Team Plasma shoved into the former category. And being a human-led organization of considerable power and in turn potential threat, they fall under the scope of this chapter's title.

I was seated in the audience, where any Pokémon who so desired could listen over the hearings: the product of benevolent reformers who did not desire the fledgling Unova Liberation Order to fall into the trap of corruption and disorder, in spite of the decentralized organization inherent with separate warlord-controlled territories within the region.

Ghetsis did not seem afraid as he was escorted into the Castelia court: a small room about 2.5 mRd from my father's office, constructed with reinforced concrete, lacking seating and any decoration due to significant wartime damage of much of the city. A smile was perceptible as he was carried to the stand, bound in the vines of two of my brethren Snivies, who served as bailiffs.

He was confidently dressed in his full uniform, seemingly mocking of the unclothed Pokémon that would determine his fate. Several Raichus concealed in dark corners of the room were trained upon Ghetsis, the sparks flashing from their body the only indication to him of their presence. His countenance turned abruptly serious upon noticing this. Ghetsis remained standing for the entirety of the proceedings. For most Pokémon, including my father (a Serperior), the absence of chairs in the entire room was not an issue.

As a Snivy, however, it is anatomical necessity that one is seated for optimal comfort. Looking back, I could not express in words how unpleasant it was to sit on the concrete floor as the proceedings were carried, lasting from about sunrise to midday. To the accelerated mind of a young Snivy such a span of time is unfortunately perceived as an eternity.

My father was serving as assistant to the warlord of Mistralton, a rather distinguished Unfezant who did not seem to value direct bloodshed as a result of his commands, as was evidenced by his untainted, lustrous plumage. An assembly consisting of eight Liberated Pokémon residing in the Mistralton territory served as the collective arbiter. The Unfezant kept its piercing gaze locked on my father. Great trust with an interpreter was necessary, but not often delivered in our society, unfortunately wary of those Pokémon possessing human-like capabilities.

The questioning began. (Dialog spoken in the Pokémon tongue is placed in brackets only for the remainder of this chapter.)

The Unfezant—perhaps in an effort to separate himself from his human inferior—directed his questions to my father, the interpreter. [Jarvis, ask him what the purpose of Team Plasma is.]

My father translated. "Ghetsis, what is the purpose of Team Plasma?"

"Our purpose is clear," he insisted, seeming offended by the question. "It is to aid in the Liberation of Pokémon. It is not rational that we should be enemies. We share a blatant common interest."

My father translated and repeated the phrase to the warlord.

[Ask him if he is willing to sign the treaty.]

"Are you willing to sign the treaty?" My father said.

I was not aware of any particular treaty; nor was my father. More shrewd warlords would express their questions in vague terminology when going through an interpreter.

"I will not. The terms are far too unreasonable. The territories we possess have been taken in a similar cause as yours—to create a society where Pokémon are forever liberated. As humans that have worked to benefit your cause should be appropriately rewarded."

My father translated.

[I see. Well, tell him that I am impatient, and that I have it in my mind to do it to him.] Once again, a dearth of context was provided.

[What do you mean, 'it'?] My father whispered, seeming rather confused.

[JUST SAY AS YOU'VE BEEN TOLD AND DON'T QUESTION ME!] Even to Ghetsis, the loud noises from the Unfezant were a cause for alarm. [Now, Jarvis, also tell Ghetsis that I do not believe his fabrication of what Team Plasma stands for. Tell him I wish him to be quite frank with Team Plasma's ulterior motives—otherwise I will crush him.] The Unfezant glared sharply at the human. Ghetsis appeared to be more concerned about the Raichus trained on him.

My father repeated the phrase verbatim, the only method of which to remain sane being to dissociate from his words, a difficult task which for a Pokémon of great intellectual capability such as my father.

"But I have told you the truth," Ghetsis replied, still maintaining his cool and civility in his words. "Team Plasma does not wish to fight with you. But they will turn belligerent—as will any party consisting of humans or Pokémon or both—if you give them due to cause to be so."

Father translated. [Ghetsis says he has said the truth, that Team plasma doesn't wish to fight, but they will be angered if given sufficient cause to become so.]

[Are you sure, Jarvis?] The Unfezant glared at his assistant.

[Yes, Unfezant Barton, I'm sure that…]

[I don't believe you. Tell me what he really said.]

[I assure you…]

[TELL ME THE TRUTH, YOU LITTLE BASTARD!] I did not jolt at as much on the second loud outburst. My boyish impulsiveness kept me restless and fidgety, naively thinking my small Snivy body could reach out and save my Father from his ally turned distrustful enemy. My Father did not deserve such ill treatment, even from a Pokémon appearing as distinguished as the Unfezant. Appearances do not reflect character.

It was this lack of trust from the warlords that caused by father to appropriately reciprocate the feeling; as an interpreter, my father the unique opportunity to take liberties against his warlord clients, with little risk of getting caught.

[Now Jarvis, tell him that he never loved his son, N, did he?]

"Ghetsis, what were the terms of the treaty that were unreasonable to you?" As no one in the room was cognizant of human language, no one—including the Unfezant, me (I did not know English at the time), and the rest of the Pokémon in the court—suspected anything was amiss. It is only through later recounts of the trial from my father to me that I was aware of this intentional mistranslation.

"I will not submit to slavery like you say all humans should. I am not just a human, but a human of dignity and worth in your regard. Should I and my loyal comrades degrade ourselves to such a status?"

Father made something up. [Ghetsis says he never loved N. He just…took advantage of his ability to hear the voices of Pokémon. When…Team Plasma fell to the Pokémon and…his purpose was over, he didn't care where N went.]

N did not appear on trial. Although he could understand our language, that was the greatest extent of his understanding. He was one with his team of Pokémon; his Zorua, his Gurdurr, his Purrloin; in the sense that communing was with his Pokémon was just as difficult for us as it was to negotiate with N. In an attempt to reach commonality, he and his Pokémon became an outcast of both sides of the battle. As no warlord was able to ascertain his status, he was agreed that he be allowed to escape. It was reported that he died in a shipwreck somewhere near the Whirl Islands in Johto.

The Unfezant cawed a little bit. [Jarvis, tell him that he was just an unloving little brat that only cared about himself all along, and therefore he doesn't deserve our sympathy.]

My father approached the human. "Ghetsis…erm…what do you want to see in this treaty?"

"Firstly, I wish citizenship in your society. Compromises must be made on both sides. Sure, you are the victors, but what morals are you upholding if this is the way you treat the fallen enemy? Only if I am at least guaranteed citizenship, then I would be willing to negotiate an agreement."

"I see," my father added.

[What's the matter, Jarvis?] The Unfezant said, glaring at his interpreter.

[Erm…no, everything is fine.] My father returned to his position next to his warlord client. [Ghetis says…erm…that he agrees with what…you said.] My father told me by that moment he had already forgotten what exactly the Unfezant said, for his mind was preoccupied in the treaty.

The Unfezant laughed at the translation. For a minute, my father trembled at what was to come. But the Unfezant's eyes were locked upon the defendant—now the criminal.

The Unfezant approached Ghetsis without word. [YOU FOOL! YOU SAY YOURSELF THAT YOU NEVER LOVED YOUR SON—THIS PROVES THAT HUMANS ARE HORRIBLE CREATURES, THAT THEY DON'T DESERVE ONE BIT OF OUR SYMPATHY!] Although it was untranslated, Ghetsis would have been a fool to not react to the Unfezant's obviously seething anger. Ghetsis did not flinch, only proving the Unfezant's very words.

The Unfezant turned his attention to the assembly of his own territory's Pokémon. [DO YOU NOT SEE, MY COMRADES? WILL YOU LET YOURSELF OVERLOOK THE CLEAR AND OBVIOUS!?] He approached the eight Pokémon. [All my friends in the Pokémon assembly, convict this man! Or you tell foolish, undeserving humans like this unloving male that they deserve to survive, humans—who do not love their children.]

I, in the audience, watched the assembly mumble among each other.

[Convict this man guilty…or you are just a horrible human like him!] The warlord pointed to Ghetsis.

[The human is guilty.] The assembly members immediately said. Although they were not staring at the guilty party. They were staring the Unfezant's menacing eyes, peeled over their every word spoken and every move made.

[There you see?] The Unfezant addressed the Pokémon public audience. [The human is guilty, as all humans are.]

[Erm…for the record, my Pokémon friends…] The Unfezant continued, [If you would indulge me for a moment…let Ghetsis tell the world once more that he never loved his son…tell him, Jarvis.]

My Father did not follow. "Would you have submitted to the treaty if you were given citizenship in our Order?"His hesitation was so little that the translation almost appeared too seamless to be a mere fabrication.

"Never! I never did, and I never will unless full changes are made. I am not a selfish man. If I were a citizen, I would want the same for my loyal friends: the Seven Sages, and my worthy underlings. My misfortune is their misfortune, should I be only one with such a privilege."

My father replied with the truth. [He says never. He never did, and never will.]

The Unfezant turned to his audience. [There you are, my comrades. Are we all agreed…that this is all on our behalf?]

[Yes!] I heard the assembly and my brethren in the audience say in unison.

[AAAAARGH!] The Unfezant cawed at a most shrilling pitch. Ghetsis did not cover his ears. A meek gasp was the last sound I heard from him.

Language is a powerful weapon, and my father was well aware that he was dangerously armed. My father did not move as the audience mumbled disconcertedly, watching as the Unfezant warlord pecked and slashed at the man's skin. Perhaps the only silver lining was Ghetsis pronounced his own fundamental shortcoming against us Pokémon; he was "just a human". Without our aid, he was defenseless against the Pokémon attacks. Such elegant clothes tore apart with the bird Pokémon's attack, just as they tore the hearts of humans ambivalent about freeing their Pokémon. Human power only works with humans. Human and Pokémon power combined created unsustainable perpetual destruction, in the form of Pokémon trainers. Such power frightened my father, a human-language-speaking Serperior. He hated himself for inadvertently taking a likeness to the very human trainers he spat on.

Upon the conclusion of the Juniper Trials, my father did not speak very much, and he retreated to the forest where we he grew up, to calm his erratic moods that surfaced during the period following the trials. He no longer impressed upon me the need to learn human language.

* * *

(Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please submit your questions about the Unova Liberation Order, to be answered in a future chapter!)


	9. Regarding Division of Society

(As always, thanks for reading! Here is the latest update, addressing some of the concerns mentioned in the reviews.)

(WARNING: The text in this chapter does get pretty dense and technical. History/social science nerds will appreciate this chapter.)

Regarding Pokémon and Division of Society

I had alluded before to the existence of a "commoner" class of Pokémon, which I have failed to mention until this point. This is a word I must actively resist from employing. Due to the colloquial nature of the word, its recognition and explanation are perhaps inevitable.

Regarding the status of "commoner", it is said in contrast to the status of "elite". Put simply, those who are not descendants of military heroes or civil workers in the original Liberation government (i.e. the era of the Juniper trials) are designated as commoners. Social unity is otherwise preserved.

The related social policy is referred as the "commoner-elite unification" system, or the Unification System for short. It argues that through the perpetuation of a class of elite blood, their epithet garnered through heroic merit in the government, stability can be sustained through a free commoner class under the controlling eye of the elite, to prevent disorder. This is the traditional social policy of the Unova Liberation Order, and the one I personally support.

But while Unification was the clarion battle cry of the early Liberation Era, as stability has began to settle across parts of the region a new social policy has been implemented, of which I am personally not fond of, but am compelled to publicly espouse by "higher authority". Being in second-in-command, I could apply such an epithet to but one Pokémon: our Leader.

The social policy of which I mention is that of "need-based segregation", which adds on to the existing Unification system. The basic principle of "commoner" and "elite" is separate from the need-based system, and stably coexists with the need-based system. The principle behind the need-based system is that human-made weapons are not employed by non-combatant Pokémon, and it is in civilian disputes that individual Pokémon are limited by their inborn abilities.

Therefore, in the need-based system, the biological condition of the Pokémon has legal standing. For example, a dispute between a water-type and a grass-type over right to designate swimming areas, for example, may be intentionally ruled in the water-type's favor, for the inherent need is greater. In a dispute between a female Blissey and a female Zorua regarding the care of a young Pokémon, the right will almost always be given to the Blissey, for they have a natural propensity towards caring for young.

The policy of "need-based segregation" is practiced here in Castelia, although is at best informally practiced or nonexistent in smaller settlements. Needless to say, most Pokémon of small villages are united in commoner status, rather than segregated by individual types or traits—which would be meaningless in settlements of fewer than 100 Pokémon.

My objection towards the need-based policy is that judgments of "bodily need", as it is called, are often arbitrary, and preferential to the species of the arbiter himself. For example, a Pachirisu presiding over a dispute between me and an Emolga would likely award the weakness to the Emolga, and be given clemency.

Furthermore, it enforces species-based stereotypes. The commoner and the elite, whose family's status was determined under the former Unification System, often criticize one another for their species, being influenced by the need-based system.

Only a few moons ago, I was approached by a commoner Arcanine, whose species are known for their obedience and mental acuity. He inquired as to my state of cleanliness, and with a sardonic glare said that I was far too luxuriant in my cleaning habits to be a commoner like him. He inquired if I was an Elite. I responded truthfully, and explained my occupation.

"You're a government official?" said the Arcanine. "Funny, I've never seen a dumb serperior like you be in such a high position." It is known that serpentine Pokémon such as myself are predisposed to inferior intelligence.

Needless to say, I was most belligerent in my response. Just before fainting, the Arcanine suffered twelve deep lacerations from my vine whip, as well as burns from a solar beam. I in turn received a minor burn from his flamethrower attack. The solar beam was revenge for this attack.

In the end, I was granted clemency, as I was a grass-type and predisposed to lose against a fire-type—in spite of my actual victory against him. It is perhaps ironic that the need-based system I have been against was my salvation for a rather impulsive assault that I am not particularly proud of.

* * *

Dewott Marius is my fellow Secretary, in the office of Social Affairs. I myself—if I have failed to mention—am the Chief Secretary, in charge for representation and general order. In such a position, appointed by the Leader himself, I have special privileges in the selection of the other Deputy Secretaries.

I had the privilege of meeting with this young Dewott less than a moon ago, for the purpose of gauging his fitness for the position. Below is his account of the events. Although I think he is somewhat spurious in some of his claims, I believe his style of narrative will be of benefit to the reader. Below is his personal account of the events:

* * *

Philip is pretty cool. I mean, not many pokémon can claim to have risen from a regular village-bred lineage to become my superior official. Me, I was born into it. My grandfather, Dewott Marcel, was a hero in early battles in Castelia, saving over 30 of his pokémon comrades in the line of fire. He saved all the wounded ones; from the weakest butterfree to the strongest dragonite. But before he could escape himself, he was shot by a human battalion and fell to the ground painlessly.

My mother who gave birth to me was conceived shortly before Marcel left his family for that fateful battle. So I grew up having never met my grandfather. He stayed faithful to my grandmother for as long he lived, despite the Order's calls for promiscuity. He was willing to adapt to the Order's calls for unity among species, the call for valiant sacrifice, but the one thing he refused to follow was the Order's call to mate with multiple females. My grandfather said (according to my grandmother) that humans had a word for it: it was called "polygamy". And that only the vilest, most immoral humans practiced such a thing.

I'd be lying to you if I said if you're not born in Castelia, or not part of the elite rank, you're basically shit outta luck. If you're village-bred, or worse-yet, wild-bred—you can bet damn sure that you won't get much out of life. Philip, although his father was an interpreter in the government, was long-separated from his father because of the chaos of the war, so his prestigious lineage was unknown until he survived past the Judgment of 2Sm. Philip's mother, a servine, was one of seven young pokémon Jarvis (Philip's father) impregnated; though she and her egg were taken away by a human trainer. The servine gave birth to Philip while still under the bondage of a human trainer.

I guess I suddenly have a whole lot more pity for Philip.

Philip told me to meet him in a restaurant adjacent to the Pokémon Center—formerly a symbol of pokémon bondage, now a community center for all pokémon of all species. The Center, as it is called, was one of the visions of the first leaders of the central Unova government, as a place "where the imbued divisions of our species dissolve, and we can become united as one social force".

Honestly, I wouldn't have gone to the Center if Philip hadn't insisted on it. The first thing I saw when I walked in was a meganium and an azumarill fighting over the last batch of oran berries on the shelf. You could see the azumarill coated with a layer of prickly razor leaf, blood leaking from every single cut. The pain was so excruciating, he was barely able to get up from the ground where he lay.

In another corner, two young female pokémon, an oshawott and a leafeon, were taking turns hitting each other with the stuff lying around in the room—it was the only way the fight would be fair, after all.

"I'm a grass type, I should be better than you!" The leafeon asserted as she picked up a small iron sculpture of Arceus sitting as decoration. It was the only piece of decoration in the Center that hadn't been desecrated or completely destroyed.

"I'm gonna make that rufflet mine if it's the last thing I do!" The leafeon threw the sculpture of Arceus at the oshawott. The pokémon the two females were fighting over sat between the two, looking with bleary, unbelieving eyes. He was quite young, and probably had just survived past the age of 2Sm; making him all the more ripe for the picking.

"It doesn't matter. To Arceus, we're all the same. Take that!" The oshawott grunted as she grabbed a sharp pebble and jabbed it straight into the leafeon's leg. No pokémon, grass or water type, could survive walking on three legs.

I watched as blood leaked out of the leafeon's beautiful slender leg. When did females ever dirty their bodies in such a manner? And when did males become so disgustingly clean?

The fraxure who was on duty at the Center couldn't do much to calm any of them down—his threatening appearance only made the two fighting pokémon get mad at the fraxure for trying to mess with them.

It was only when the manager—a blissey who herself was formerly under the human Nurse Joy—came to calm things down. There's just something about a blissey taking care of others that is inimitable. You could tell the fraxure was real pissed about his job, but he's probably been working at the Center for many Sm, before the need-based system was adopted.

"Do you need something?" The fraxure asked me after I entered, his body covered in scratches from the previous altercation.

"No, erm…I'm waiting for someone," I told him. "I'm supposed to meet him here."

"All right," he concluded as he began to turn away. "Let me know if you need—" he paused, and turned back towards me. "Listen, erm…if you need a safe place, I…"

I watched as the water types in the room began to be defeated by the stronger-type opponents. The oshawott had lost his nerve and collapsed to the floor after being pinned to the wall by razor leaf with astounding ferocity. The azumarill could be seen reaching feebly for the oran berry that the meganium was devouring in front of him; however, to no avail.

"Erm…no thank you," I said to the fraxure. "I'm perfectly capable of defending myself." I started trembling the moment I finished that sentence, but before I could become utterly paralyzed with fear Philip arrived.

"Hello, Dewott Marius. I apologize for my lateness; your punctuality, which I did not anticipate, has only led to my character being shed in a negative light. Shall we enter the restaurant?"

We sat down at a table, any table was okay, as most of them were empty. More recent restaurants catered to the specific dietary needs of individual pokémon—for example, herbivorous pokémon prefer vegetarian restaurants.

But in the moribund spirit of the Pokémon Center, the restaurant next to it served food to all types of pokémon; a difficult task, as individual species dietary needs are so diverse, and within species our dietary preferences equally diverse.

Before the pignite who was serving us could come take our order, a galloping noise was suddenly heard.

"Serperior Philip! An urgent note for you!" His personal messenger, a rapidash wearing a special blue ribbon, passed a folded cream-color sheet of paper to him. Philip, to this day, prefers written communication above all else.

He carefully unfolded it with his vines. "I see. Our Leader desires to meet with me personally…3/4 before sundown. Regarding the campaign in the desert near Nimbasa. Very well. Tell Our Leader that I shall be there as outlined." As if anyone would refuse a meeting with Our Great Esteemed Unparalleled Superioriorious Leader. Our Leader can't stand sitting on his ass for too long, watching as all the little pokémon—no, sorry, "Pokémon"—go about their daily business?

"The campaign in the desert of Nimbasa has been a challenge," Philip noted. "Yields are minimal and the conditions inhospitable." Now the scourge of trainers are gone, the military's job is to go the wild to establish settlements of "domesticated" wild pokémon in the wilderness.

"Send more sandshrew," I suggested. "They would be more immune to the dry conditions."

"No, it is better to bring water-type Pokémon along, as a source of hydration. This improves our potential recruiting pool, as the constraint of lack of water is removed. It is a challenging job, and few pokémon of any species will agree to join the fight."

"But even water pokémon lose their water content after lack of hydration." I thought about what they say happened to my grandfather when he marched his company through the desert. They met the humans in the middle of this huge sandstorm. The humans were suffering too; they didn't have water too. Grandpa couldn't tell if they were waving the white flag or if it was really just a mirage.

He commanded his troop to fire, and the sand turned blood red as far as the eye could see. When he advanced to pokémon-controlled Castelia, only a third of his company had survived, including him. But they did not die from the battle itself; they valiantly defeated all the humans. My grandfather, who was designated the source of water, became too dehydrated to support his fellow pokémon in the long march across the desert.

Sitting at the restaurant, Philip was about to say something but then went silent because we saw this pokémon walk through the restaurant. It was a pignite, probably in the Unification Military, because he had a gun toted on his body. Also, he was covered in blood and scratches on his entire right side. The pokémon working at the restaurant seemed to know him, because the pignite who was working at the restaurant stared running up the injured pignite in tears.

"I…I…killed her," the female pignite was muttering to herself. "I killed Linda. I killed Linda. I killed Linda…" and so on as the male pignite working there tried to hold her still while the audino waitress gave her the heal bell.

"You see what is wrong with the need-based system?" He suggested to me, not raising his voice. He always does that and uses fancy words so he sounds smarter than he really is.

"On the contrary, the need-based system doesn't adapt to the dynamic nature of our Order." I said. "You can clearly see how even a female of ex-military status would be at risk for causing havoc with human-made weapons. Unless there's a state of emergency, females, even ex-military shouldn't be allowed to have weapons other than their own, by the 'need of maternalism'."

"But there is a state of emergency, always," Philip pressed. "We are at constant threat from the humans, if not them the wild Pokémon, if not them the very radicals in our society threatening the stability of Our Order. If only the illusion of interspecies relations can be created with the Unification system, then so be it."

"But if we ever want stability, we must put pokémon and _our_ needs and wants first."

"Dewott Marius!" A rapidash came galloping into the restaurant, calling for me. "A note is arriving for you!"

"Thank you. If you will excuse me." I closed my eyes. Messages can be delivered on paper with great speed, but was later found to be impractical due to the vast quantities of paper needed, as well as the ambiguity of handwriting (many pokémon can read and write, but some pokémon are not as capable to grasp writing instruments with sufficient dexterity to make legible sentences).

Instead of written messages, psychic pokémon are used, who are almost predestined to have some kind of role in the city's communication system. I listened as the messages came flowing into my head.

I opened my eyes. Philip stared in disinterested manner. "It is a pity that the art of writing has perished in such a manner," he said. "If but one vestige of human kind must be preserved, the art of the written word has to be it."

I talked to the rapidash, who formerly was used to deliver paper messages, but now they are merely used to take messages from individual pokémon to central communication centers where psychic pokémon send the message to individual recipients. Rapidash are still necessary because many psychic -types would find it hard to travel long distance at high speeds (as rapidash do).

"What was the message?" Philip asked.

"It was from my mate, Dewott Ophelia. She asks whether I will return home by sundown." I turned to the rapidash. "Ask Dewott Ophelia to be sent the following message." The rapidash leaned in close so he could hear. "'I will arrive a bit after sundown, but start eating without me.' Got that? Good."

"I do not understand why rapidash are necessary in the transaction," Philip said after the rapidash left. "I have found pokémon of all types with exceptional athletic endowment to serve as messenger."

"There aren't just rapidash," I told him. "Luxray and garchomp all work as messengers."

Philip changed the subject; he knew I was right. "I cannot imagine you staying with one singular mate particularly sustainable," Philip said. "How strong is your obligation to the fictitious society of your 'family', not only in time but in emotion? Such time is better spent in contribution to Our Order."

"I don't stay at the office all the way through the night like you do, Philip." But then I couldn't really blame him. As a journalist, he probably was used to such difficult, long hours. "And who's to say that your idea of 'promiscuity' and plural love is sustainable? What will happen when you get older?"

Philip went silent, looking as if he was almost scared of something. "My father said this was the best way for our society to survive. Even nearing his death, he maintained relations with more than five partners," he boasted. It made me sick, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't just the food that caused it.

But perhaps such a behavior was necessary for his family. When Jarvis was young, he was separated from the females he loved, the children he conceived (such as Philip) because of the human trainers. It was almost necessary to emotionally detach from them to cope with the loss. Me, I don't think I could live without my dear mate Ophelia; and many pokémon of my generation think so too. Plural love, or "polygamy", as my father called it, is rarely practiced by the younger generation. It's just not natural, and so is the organized extermination of males, which is being phased out in some small warlord-controlled villages.

"What has Our Order has turned into?" Philip complained. "A segregated society of cliques and separate niches. We are all of Arceus' blood. Nothing can separate us from that fact."

"Facts are irrefutable, yes, but you can't deny that a little emolga would be no match against a giant serperior like you. And it's not like it's a question of age. Emolga don't evolve into some larger form their entire lives."

And then I wasn't sure if I said something wrong, 'cause he seemed awfully triggered by me talking about "emolga". Or maybe I was just seeing things. Philip was just really cold to me the entire time. I didn't know if that's just how he is, or he actually did not like me.

"I'm…I'm sorry, Philip," I began.

" _Serperior_ Philip," he corrected me. "Learn how to address your superiors," he said with a scornful eye. Maybe that's why he didn't like me.

"We all heard about what happened. My father told me about it. It's not your fault, Philip—Serperior Philip." My father heads the military offices of the central Unification Government, carrying on the tradition of his father Marcel.

He ignored me. "Waiter! You! Over here!" He called out. The pignite that was serving us approached our table.

Philip leaned in really close to the pignite's face, his eyes locked on his. "Listen to me. This food is horribly cooked. Do you have control over your fire attacks?"

"I…I…" The pignite was staring to burst into tears. The intense stare of a serperior has a profound effect on many pokémon.

Philip continued scolding the pokémon. "Why can't you be like that caring audino, over there? Send her over, and I don't want to see your incompetent face before me again, you hear me!?"

I was silent for a moment. Then I spoke. "Don't you realize? By treating them as equals, you're really making then unequal. Obviously the pignite can't be as good as the audino in this kind of restaurant job. He isn't born to be caring."

He brushed off my remark. "I am older than you, Dewott Marius, and have more experience in these matters."

Unfortunately, I thought to myself, rolling my eyes. Sometimes old age can be a disadvantage. They're not adaptable, and they're stuck in their ways. And for a place like Unova that's changed so much over the past Sm, you just can't get by with a fixed mindset.

The best military strategists working in my father's office are actually the younger ones, aware of each pokémon's physical constraints and maximizing the use of pokémon attacks in the battlefield. Rejecting the traditional values of promiscuity and universal equality that the original generation supported, we younger pokémon of the privileged class are called the "New Elites".

(END)

* * *

At the time of writing, Dewott Marius was just starting as a member of Our Secretariat. Currently, at time of publication, he has served the Order for but a few days, but despite his short term, he has proven a salient—if only radical—voice in our discussions. Although he lacks eloquence and proper adherence (you will note his decaptialization of Pokémon and Pokémon names, which have not been edited from the original), I have found the young Dewott to be insightful in his ideology. We are on good terms—if not good, sufficient to conduct business in a diplomatic and orderly fashion.

Despite his narrative otherwise, I still maintain my position in favor of the Unification system. And his mockery of the system of promiscuity and disproportionate gender ratio is unfounded.

Firstly, he cites anecdotal examples, and such evidence cannot be used to make general conclusions as he most boldly does (and tends to do as a general habit).

Secondly, safety of individual Pokémon cannot be guaranteed, even with the need-based system. If "need-based" segregation were to be done such as to guarantee safety, the "need" that guarantees safety is arbitrary at best. For example, does one separate the Squirtle and Snivy because they are of different types? Or the Oshawott and Samurott because one is clearly more powerful than the other? Or the jolly-natured Buizel with the adamant-natured Buizel, because the latter may forcefully oppress the desirable positive energy of the former? And the questions continue infinitely. In this case, all Pokémon should be confined in self-contained prison cells, devoid of any social stimuli.

Thirdly, Dewott Marius mentions the use of psychic Pokémon to deliver messages. This is an example of how the need-based system predestines Pokémon to a certain occupation, which in turn enforces species-based stereotypes, which in turn enforces the social prerogative to fulfill one's destined occupation, which in turn further strengthens the stereotype, and so it continues in a vicious cycle.

What if some psychic Pokémon do not wish to serve as messengers? Are they "destined" to be jobless vagrants, which cause disorder in the city? To extend the question further, would a Luxray be satisfied with being destined as a message courier? Obviously this is not true. Luxray Tanya is remarkably fit and athletic, which enabled her to cover the horrors of the war from the front lines in her younger years (Regarding the Beginning).

But she has explicitly mentioned many times that she enjoys her job as a journalist. While her abilities are still put into practical use through her on-the-field coverage of stories, she does a job that she is passionate for, not predestined. So therefore, you cannot say that one with a certain trait is predisposed to a certain job, because the potential benefit of one's abilities may exist with any job, including one the individual Pokémon may have passion for.

For example, the Fraxure at the Pokémon Center may use his aggressive traits to scare off vagrants or other unfriendly Pokémon that may cause the disturbances Dewott Marius described. The negative attitude towards his job, which Marius describes, may very well be due to oppression of his abilities in the need-based system, and that he does not feel as appreciated for his all-important, but not immediately apparent role.

Fourthly, the control of the male population is by no means a moribund practice. Although Marius reports some villages do not partake in this tradition (this is true), due to the small, disorganized nature of these settlements, they are susceptible to variance in policies all the time. The fact that some villages may not practice the Judgment of 2Sm does not suggest that the practice in general is being "phased out".

Fifthly, the practice of monogamous relations, common among Marius' generation, aggravates the negatives of the need-based system. The practice of family creates a nested social network; a family of a male and female Pignite and a female Tepig offspring would be more tempted to shun those not of their species, for the social framework of a species-segregated environment is in place with the institution of the so-called "family".

Promiscuity, on the other hand, promotes collective unity between species and enhances the political integrity of Our Order. There is no species-based social circle to "fall back" on—such as a family—forcing Pokémon to interact among those of all species and types. But a minimum of hierarchy must be in place to maintain order, hence the commoner-elite Unification System. Monogamous relationships are also much more symbolic of the era of human bondage than so-called "polygamy"—the majority of humans practiced monogamy, not plural love.

And lastly, Dewott Marius mentions that I presented the appearance of being "scared of something". This is was not the fear in my eyes that he may have wished for it to be. My apparent fear was out of concern for my dear friend Luxray Tanya, whether she would be alive much longer. Do you think I do not care about those I love? If I were rash, I would accuse Dewott Marius of profound insensitivity and lack of sympathy.

* * *

Nonetheless, I am committed to transparency in the exchange of ideas; for this is the very idea that sustains the integrity of this entire publication. In closing, I offer you these words from my father Serperior Jarvis, who was one of the foremost historians of the Pokémon bondage era in his later years:

"To consider the need-based system as the end-all successor of the Unification System is too simplistic. For it is only its geographical existence in Castelia, the center of Our Order, that makes such a system significant. One should not be oblivious to the fact that a wide number of social systems exist in Unova, instituted by independent warlords—who have perhaps never taken the Unifciation System to heart. In the chaos of war and tireless military campaigns, many warlords left to their own devices.

"For example, a small village 3mRd from Nuvema practices a unique system where the presence of rain over a chosen period of time determines who shall be the ruler. However, this coastal settlement consists mostly of water-types, and therefore cannot be extended in to a more regional context.

"But we should not discredit these other smaller social systems. We as Pokémon, under the contemptible bondage of humans, were a repressed minority ourselves, and with dismissing any social order, we are deserving of only one term: hypocrite. And only the vilest, most immoral humans practiced such a thing."

I encourage readers to please leave their opinion on which system (the Unifcation System or need-based system) they prefer in the comments section of this publication. Your decisions may affect the advice I give to Our Leader in our next meeting, and in turn may redirect the course of social policy in the Unova region.

* * *

(To be continued. As always, be sure to post any questions you have in the comments or in a PM!)


End file.
